Gate: Thus The World Felt Warmth
by Larry The Mailman
Summary: The Saderan Empire, undisputed ruler of most of the continent of Falmart, remained undefeated since the Arctic War. However, its narrow view would soon be challenged by academics, former officers, soldiers, and most importantly, true survivors. Contains no JSDF involvement due to Earth freezing over. Rated M for blood, violence and other related and/or equally detestable acts.
1. Thus The Academics Studied

Long gone were the days of struggling to set up the infrastructure. Long gone were the days when those in need relied on them. Long gone were the days when the biggest concern of all mankind was to keep the city alive. Forty-six survived the Storm out of the original forty-five, with a guest of honour from nowhere else than **New Manchester**. The **Seedling Arks** survived, but more importantly, New Manchester survived. And that, was to be their legacy... but as **_Guardians of the Arks_**, their job was all but over. Since they had lived through the Storm, it was now up to them to investigate the strange shimmer that appeared two days after the Storm passed, in the South Pass. However...

"We need to check on New Manchester. Help where ever we could. We did give them the materials they needed on a short notice, and I fully expect some buildings to have collapsed in the Storm." Said one of the engineers inside of a small, well lit room inside of one of the Workshops.

"I agree. Most of us will go to New Manchester to help rebuild, only after we ensure we have enough Automatons to bring with us. How many Steam Cores do we have left?" Asked another engineer, this one with goggles on his eyes, and with graying hair.

"About seven Steam Cores. We only need six Automatons, so we can build one and send it with a normal scout team to the South Pass, and take the rest with us." Spoke another one of the engineers, now gaining nods of approval from the others. One of the engineers got up from the small table, as to declare the final decision.

"Then it is settled. Alfred, George, Oswald, Neville and I go with an Automaton to inspect the strange shimmer of light. The rest of you go to New Manchester with Harris, and help out where you can. I think he deserves to see his new home."

* * *

The scouts rode through knee-deep snow, determined and resilient. The Automaton was close-by, following their every move like an obedient dog. Being from Oxford and Cambridge had its benefits, for the scouts knew the deeper intricacies of Automatons, and, if need be, modify them on the go. The temperature was kind to them, only at -30C this time of day. The winds were weak, as well, but that never stopped the snow from falling.

"How much more until we reach the South Pass?" Asked Oswald, whilst adjusting his goggles slightly.

"Just above this small hill, and we should be there." Answered George, as he carried with him a hunting rifle, seeing as he was one of the few which brought one. However useful they'd be when not jammed.

The scouts continued to push onward, the Automaton lighting the way for them with the aid of its built-in spotlight. Truly it was a marvel of engineering, standing at no more than fifteen meters tall, with its quadrupedal design purposefully made to endure the Great Winter. As the group passed over the last hill, they could, at long last, see it. It was a very decorated archway, with its pillars being in the style of old Roman ones from the second century. All in all, not so impressive, except for the fact how it got there in the first place. Stranger yet, there seemed to be... something, from between the pillars, in the middle of the archway. Until they could get closer, no one would be certain.

The scouts were distracted by the sounds of a man struggling to walk, let alone live, echoing throughout the valley. Taking a far better look at the space surrounding the Roman archway, they found a man some distance away, heading towards the South Pass. Judging by his speed, it was best they got to him, and quick.

It didn't take long, about fifteen minutes on sleds, but the scouts reached the man in the end. He had, quite literally, as much leather and fur on him as was possible. The man was on the ground, passed out, but still alive.

"Poor bugger, all that leather and fur did its job, but its weighing him down." Observed Neville, kneeling next to the man.

"Pick him up and put him on the sleds. We'll return back here once our friend recovers." Morgan, the scout leader said, picking up the man by the legs, whilst Neville picked him up by the head. With care, the man was put at the back of the engine-powered sleds, and strapped tightly. Once everyone was ready, and the Automaton left at the Roman Archway to slowly keep the snow near it minimal, the scouts set out back to the Arks.

* * *

**EARTH: ARKS, 5:52 PM**

**SURVIVOR P.O.V**

He slowly woke up. His entire body ached, but he felt warm. Covered in something, he took a better look at the space surrounding him. It was some sort of room, made out of wood and steel, dark brown and silver in colour, with a window letting the diminishing rays of sun flood into the room. He lay on a bed, covered with nice, warm blankets. However, he knew not where he was. Finding that he was still in his armour, he uncovered himself, and slowly got up from bed. His boots were still there, but his warm clothes were nowhere to be found. Whoever took him here took his coat, too.

Carefully putting on his boots, he opened the door to the rest of this strange place, and found a flight of stairs. That was good. Stairs led to an exit, most of the time. He made careful care not to make a sound, yet the small creaking of the wooden stairs gave him away potentially. He could hear the sound of something hitting something else, likely the walls, but paid it no mind. As soon as he was down, he saw a man, hammer in hand, hitting a nail with a hammer into the wall to the right of the doors. The man wore a hat most unusual, alongside some sort of leather vest, and, at first glance, at least from his angle, glasses.

"You can come out, now. No one's gonna hurt you." The man said, slowly finishing with his business. Even here, the language he spoke was known. That was good, at least. But he didn't answer, for the survivor was sceptical of the man's claim.

"Please, do sit down. I was just about to make some tea for myself until you woke up. I bet you're thirsty." The man said once more, jovially so, whilst pointing at a free chair on a table with his left hand. The survivor, with reluctance, accepted the man's offer. Sitting down, the survivor saw the man move past him, into some unknown part of the house. But even from there, they could converse.

"The name's Oswald Bigsley, by the way. I never got yours." Half-shouted the man, earning a sigh from the survivor.

"Marcus Quintus is my name." He answered flatly.

"That's an awfully strange name for someone in this age, but seeing as you're basically dressed like a Roman soldier, and can write Latin from the notes I have, I shouldn't be surprised. What city do you come from?" Oswald asked. Roman...?

"Sadera... I come from the Saderan Empire's capitol." Quintus answered, some measure of pride seeping into the sentence towards the end, but a reply from Oswald came a little later than usual.

"Now you're making no sense. This world's covered in snow. All the governments collapsed, and trust me, forming a functional government at this day and age is nigh impossible."

"Not here. Another world, and continent." Quintus' answer made Oswald chuckle, but he didn't know why.

"Now you're just pulling my leg. There's only seven continents on this world 'ere. All of them frozen, might I add. This here, besides New Manchester, is, I fear, all that's left of humanity. If the others didn't reach their Generators on time, that is." Oswald replied, now coming back into the room where Quintus sat, two ceramic cups in hand. Taking a seat opposite to Quintus, Oswald set his cup on the table, and passed the other to Quintus. He, however, was reluctant to drink it. There could be poison.

"Watch it, it's a little hot." The man stated, taking a slight sip from his own cup. "You know. It's not everyday that someone uses Latin to speak to others. It's a dead language. You know any other language?"

Quintus shook his head, which made the engineer scowl a little, making him adjust his glasses.

"Shame. Would've been much easier to talk with you if you knew any other language. I'm a scholar, but even I have my limits when it comes to-" The rest of his voice was drowned out by something very loud that came from near the two men. Quintus tensed, and reflexively tried to reach for his sword, yet found it nowhere. All the while, Oswald looked unphased.

"Well, work day's done and over. Not like we do much except theorize about the many things that could've led to the Great Winter. I swear that the Patagonia quake was actually a meteor strike..." Thought Oswald out loud, in his own native tongue, which Quintus could not understand. It had been a good few minutes of odd silence, with Oswald drinking the contents of his cup at a steady pace, whilst Quintus just looked at his. But... if this man truly wanted to kill him, why not do it when he was unconscious? So, he took his own cup, and took a small sip. It was a heavenly taste, one that the soldier could not describe with words alone.

"Like the tea? It's not what it used to be, but we still try to make it taste good." The engineer asked, receiving no reply, and instead, got the message when the soldier took another sip. But then something crossed Oswald's mind. 'Academic curiosity' he called it, but it really was just hope beyond hope. "Look. About where you come from... I guess I'll give you the benefit of doubt. Say, you did come here from another world. How'd you get here?"

"Through the Gate. You must have missed it, if you know not of it." Quintus replied, finally being only slightly interested.

"Hm, you have a point. How does this... Gate, look like, exactly?" Oswald asked eagerly, and received his reply soon after. Quintus went into great detail on the Gate. From the height of the pillars, to the ornaments on the Gate. But what caught Oswald's attention was the description of the pillars. It fit a second century Roman pillar. The same one that was on the Roman Archway.

"That awfully fits the description of what we saw near the place we found you at. We'll check it out, tomorrow. But now, I think we should eat. Grab that coat on the armchair and just follow me."

The two got up from theie chairs, only after finishing their tea, with Oswald waiting for Quintus at the door to grab his coat and put it on. Surprisingly, Quintus thought, the material was of good quality.

"Let me be the first to congratulate you on your first steps inside our little city." Oswald mentioned, finally opening the door to the world beyond the Gate. Upon stepping out, Quintus was bombarded with conflicting thoughts and emotions. Before him stood a large tower of metal, with smoke spewing out from above triumphantly, in defiance to the snow he could see falling. Most of his vision was obscured by the tall buildings, neatly surrounding the tower in a circle, but he could clearly see one other thing. Giant beasts of metal and wood, with four legs making giant steps where ever it went. He could hear each and every step, and was lost in all his thoughts of what divine being blessed this community with such gifts, that he only snapped out of it once he was pulled aside by Oswald.

"Careful there. Those Automatons are easily noticable and avoidable, but if they step on you, well, say goodbye to your leg or arm. Strong enough to amputate. With frightening accuracy, might I add." He said, as the Automaton slowly passed by them, turning a corner eventually, and now out of proper sight.

"What God blessed you with that beast? Was it Duncan!?" He shouted, obviously determined to know just how they got all these blessings, but it only made Oswald crack a slight laugh. Quintus didn't understand why he was laughing, but it soon became clear once the answer came.

"I don't know who this 'Duncan' fellow is, but believe me, we've prayed to a lot of gods in our past. Each one fake as all hell. We built all of this ourselves, with our own two hands." Oswald stated, patting the soldier's back, moving towards the Cookhouse. But Quintus was in disbelief. This couldn't be achieved without the blessing of a god! It had to be a god, Quintus' mind tried to reason. Alas, he said it himself: all the gods these men worshipped, in their long history, were fake. Was this truly the work of mere mortal men...? The two walked around the large tower, until they finally came across a wider building: green roof, strange words and some sounds coming from within. Following Oswald inside, he couldn't but notice how noticabely hotter it was compared to the outside. Just like in that building they were in...

"Oi, Oswald! I see you've finally arrived. Why'd you run off half an hour ago?" Another man, sitting at a table with four more men, asked.

"Ah, Neville, I see you and the lads are already here. Well, I had to nail something to the wall, and then make tea for myself and our guest here."

"So he's awake? That's a speedy recovery if I've ever seen one." Said the man known as Neville, sighing in relief.

"Come on down, sit with us. The food isn't poisoned." Said another man in Quintus' language, this one slightly taller, and with a growing beard. Sitting next to the bearded man, Quintus, oddly enough, felt more at ease now that there were more people. It was a feeling he couldn't explain, but deep down knew existed.

"So, where's he from, Oswald? Did you find that out?" Asked a third man, who was found polishing some sort of glass piece.

"Well, this is just a theory, but I guess its worth checking out. Remember that Roman Archway we found near the South Pass? Apparently that's a portal to another world." His friends grew pale, but were on the verge of laughing. Such a ludicrous thought.

"You're serious? There's no such thing as portals to other worlds. Let me guess, your 'Academic curiosity' sparked up again, eh?"

"Yes, George, if you must know, it has. And let me ask you, has it ever led us astray?" This sent them into thinking. While it was simply outlandish that such a thing as a portal existed, no one could argue that Oswald had a feel for things that would work in their favour.

"What I want to know is why you are here, sir..." George asked, still not knowing the man's name. The man merely sighed, and gave him an answer.

"Quintus. My name is Quintus. I was sent to look for the three legions that were sent through the Gate. They never returned, and I was amongst the first to be sent."

"Three whole legions... we're gonna have to search for them. I suggest you eat, Quintus. We will have a long day tomorrow."

And it was as they had said. They would embark at dawn, the following day, and arrive before breakfast. And after one sound-sleeping night, it was time. The self-propelled sleds still fascinated him, and even more so the things that kept them going. It was now obvious that these people used coal, a sign of a poor man, as the 'fuel' for the 'engine', but to rely on it so much, and find many uses for it was still fascinating. Upon reaching the Gate, the six of them were met with the Automaton, vigilantly keeping the Gate's surroundings clear of snow. As everyone dismounted the sleds, they approached the Gate, in all its glory, and saw a black void inside.

"So, this is the Gate that leads to another world?" Asked Oswald, eyeing the Gate with far more attention than before.

"Yes. The space between the worlds is black, for what reason I do not know. It will take a few minutes of walking to reach Alnus Hill. The Allied Kingdoms have been sent in the Empire's stead to safeguard the Gate on the other side, but they would never move too close to the Gate." Reasoned Quintus, clutching his coat tightly. The winds picked up speed: the temperature was to drop any day now. Neville tinkered with the Automaton for some time, until, finally, he spoke up.

"It's good to go! We're all but ready!"

"Great! Alright lads, time to see this world beyond the Gate, if Quintus wasn't pulling our leg and this was just a cave." Cheerfully said Alfred, supported by Morgan and George.

"Then let us move." Quietly said Quintus, leading the men and the Automaton through the Gate. As they slowly entered the black void, the Automaton's spotlight came in useful for illuminating the way ahead, as it stuck behind everyone else. Not only that, but its Steam Core was a source of lighting, as well. They walked in silence, finally seeing but a shimmer of light, slowly getting bigger and brighter.

"This is it. The other side..." Muttered Oswald, adjusting his glasses as to not get blinded by the light.

"Holy shit... the thermometer's going wild. It's... 2°C and rising!" Morgan yelled out, everyone but Quintus surprised.

"Above zero!? This truly must mean...!"

"Then we move onward! Into the brave, new world!"

With newfound determination, the group made the final thrust through the Gate, and found it to be... beautiful. It was a bright blue sky, with barely any clouds in the way. The sun shone brightly, and sprayed warmth all across the vast lands. It was so hot, that the men had to take off their coats as to not receive a heat stroke. And the thermometer, most importantly, showed a pleasant 21°C, something practically unheard of ever since the Great Winter begun. The engineers, too stunned to say anything, simply took in the scenery. This is what Earth was like. _This is what Earth should have been like, even now_.

To see these men full of joy, seeing the green, open fields, brought some amount of joy to Quintus, too. After he had expected to die in the frozen wasteland, and then be brutally tortured, his view on the world was practically flipped upside down, after only one night with not only academics, but true survivors. To survive, let alone thrive in the cold wastes demanded the utmost respect, even from the Empire. And it required what were perhaps monumental sacrifices, incredible risks, and most of all: courage and determination to see through a plan until the end. But... where were the Allied Kingdoms? Were they farther away?

* * *

**FALMART: SOME DISTANCE FROM ALNUS HILL, 9:10 AM**

**ALLIED KINGDOMS P.O.V**

King Duran of the Elbe Kingdom was on edge. A whole three days had it been since he heard from the three legions, and a day since he sent the messenger to try and find them. The Empire had to deal with several troublesome elements, thus the Allied Kingdoms were summoned to keep watch of the Gate. Yet none dared approach the Gate itself. Rumors circulated that the Gate was taking people by force through itself, either by using whatever, or whoever, was on the other side, or by giving them the urge to go through themselves. So when King Duran got a report from one of his scouts that the messenger returned, he was more than relieved at first. Yet... the news came with a bad side. Said messenger brought not only a few of the otherworlders with himself, but a giant beast of metal as well. Whilst on horseback, approaching the Gate, King Duran had many options. He could imprison the otherworlders and his messenger, but the beast was likely to give resistance to such a decision. He could always ask if they had willingly become slaves of the messenger, and if so, congratulate him, and send him back through to try and find the legions again. But if he had defected...

"Your majesty. The messenger wishes to speak with you. He has brought a supposed academic from the other side. He vouches for their compliance." A soldier stated, standing still and resolute, patiently awaiting his king's reply. He eyed the two individuals behind the soldier, still on his horse, carefully. The messenger looked in no way, shape or form harmed, but he lacked weapons. Meanwhile, this strange man was an enigma to him. Clothed like an otherworlder, spoke like an otherworlder, and acted like an otherworlder.

"Hmm. Exploratores Quintus Valerius. I have heard that you brought otherworlders with you. Why is it that you have not killed them?" Inquired King Duran, with a commanding voice. The otherworlder stayed silent, but Quintus spoke, in a solemn tone.

"My king, if I may speak of what these otherworlders have done. While I was looking for the lost legions, I had weakened considerabely, and fell unconscious. I had woken up inside of their city, cared for, and even considered one of them for the time I was there. They had carried me all the way from the Gate back to their city, through the terrifying cold that killed all unprepared for it. I dare not think of my fate had it not been for them."

"So I have heard... and you, otherworlder? What say you?" King Duran said, keeping a close watch on the otherworlder. They could all be walking into an ambush set up by them, but his face showed no sign of contempt, or any hostile emotion.

"Well, my king, I would first like to present myself, as I am now part of my world's delegation. I am sir Oswald Archibald Lockwood, aged forty-seven. I was born in the city of London, the capitol of the former British Empire, which controlled a quarter of my world. As for the circumstances in which we found your messenger, well... we did what we had to do. We could not leave a person to die in the freezing wastes of the Arctic. We've already seen too much death in our world. Not many survived the Great Winter, but those who did, thrived. At least I hope so." Oswald spoke with respect, his posture straight and fit of a noble. Such revelations made King Duran freeze completely. An empire that once ruled a quarter of not only its continent, but the world? A cataclysmic event which saw such empire perish? It was impossible for him to comprehend it, but this man, the otherworlder, who was there, claimed as such. And he claimed that survivors existed. He was one such survivor. Such a thing was ludicrous! However, he did mention the Arctic... were they attacked by the same tribe of barbarians which had almost defeated the Empire two-hundred-and-fifty years ago?

"You mentioned something about the Arctic... tell us more. Was this where your empire was?" The king of Elbe asked, now dismounting his horse. He wanted to hear each and every detail perfectly.

"Well, my king, our empire wasn't in the Arctic. It was further south. It was one of the greatest nations to exist, but one which has always had a turbulent history. In the eve of the Great Winter, the British Empire sent its best academics to discover the reasons for the world growing colder and colder. There were many reasons, yet not even a single one of them was the sole reason. We built Generators, which supplied heat to them, and at present, for those which survived. When the Great Winter came at long last, everyone tried to flee. Most never made it past the frozen ocean. By god, we had to endure an apocalyptic Storm which I cannot even describe with words. You simply had to be there to understand. But, my fellows here, and forty others which are not here at present, were sent with a special mission in hand. Every seed of our world was collected, and given to us, to keep safe from the winter. We were chosen as the Guardians of the Arks, but the Great Winter forced us to choose such professions. We adapted, and we survived. The Arks survived. But most importantly, a city which we found, helpless in the cold... survived. Thanks to our decision to help them, despite endangering our mission, and the future of our planet." The academic finished, making a small bow, perhaps to show some level of respect. But this had truly left King Duran speechless. He wanted to dismiss it all as some sort of lie, but the man's tone, his posture, and the messenger swearing on his life that all he said was true, simply left the king confused. If this man were to talk to anyone from the Empire, he would've been dismissed on the spot as a lunatic and a barbarian, a filthy savage from the other side of the Gate. But Duran was wiser, yet still as weary.

"I see..." He said, uneasily so. He then took a glance at the other four men behind the academic. They were likely just like him, survivors of an empire which held immesurable power, undone by something he could not even understand. Yet the spirit of this empire lived on through these men. They controlled these metal beasts with ease, built large towers to heat them in the cold, and made cities in which they could survive.

"May I... see, this world of yours? This sounds too grandiose to be true, and I must know. You have shown no hostile intent, and as such, I shall show none in return. But I must insist on bringing bodyguards with me." Asked Duran, still speaking with a commanding voice, but a commanding voice which sounded more relaxed, more relieved at the thought that he would not need to fight, even if it denied him glory.

"You may. But be aware of the Automaton. If it steps on you, either on your arm or your leg, it will tear it from your body. We have tried to make it safer, but that is all that we could do. And if I may insist, bring warm clothes, but not too many. The amount you gave to Quintus Valerius weighed him down tremendously." Said Oswald, finally turning around to his comrades, now shouting. "Oi, lads! Grab your things and let's get back to Earth! We ride with the king 'ere to New Manchester!"


	2. Hope Will Rise

**Woah, this blew up quickly! What was to be a small side project suddenly turned into something bigger. Oh well, I have the time to write, so I best use it while I still can! Onto the reviews!**

**Wombag1786 - I admit, spacing things out is not my strong suit, but I am glad you liked the chapter despite that! **

**Guest - Glad you liked it. And don't worry about New Manchester for 2 reasons! Firstly, it will be explained in the chapter. Secondly- _Child Worker: Oi, where those buggers at!? Me mean left hook is itchin' for a foight, an' I 'avent had me pipe o' smoke this whole week! Mum says it is 'bad for the lungs' but all I hear from me mum is her screamin' as she's getting ran over ten times in a row by carts back in London. Me grampa said he was never more at peace than when watchin' me mum get ran over. What a time to be alive, he said. Then he fockin' froze to death. _\- I... thanks, Timothy, for that oh so enlightening story. **

**Last admiral - Yes, exactly! I will actually be focusing on the whole development of New Manchester as it, and the Arks, are relocated to Falmart. And the gods can suck my ass, they will feel the wrath of [SPOILERS] spreading technology and quality British produce to all in** **Falmart! And it's not gonna be New Manchester doing it :O**

**Well, that seems to be it for now. Tune in for now as we see King Duran, the madman who survived a helicopter crash in the light novels, experience the crushing cold of Earth. **

* * *

**EARTH: SOME DISTANCE AWAY FROM NEW MANCHESTER, 6:30 PM**

**KING DURAN OF ELBE P.O.V**

These otherworlders truly were strange. Covered in clothes made from the finest fur, King Duran and his men went through the Gate, to verify the claims of the otherworlders. Even after only seconds on the other side, he could instantly feel the weight of their claims slowly sinking him into the endless snow before him. So much snow, ice and barely any vegetation. Dead trees here and there, slowly but surely being covered by continuously falling snow.

As of now, they were clutching their guides on some sort of strange sleds which moved by themselves. Exploratores Quintus had told him that these sleds were called the 'Mark II Engine-powered Sleds'. When asked what it meant, the Exploratores admitted to not knowing much, simply knowing the name. The otherworlders talked from time to time in their strange language, seeming unusually happy for people who lived in a festering hellscape.

"My king. I guess this is your answer to what we had to endure." Said the man whom Duran learned was Marcus, turning around his head slightly, his voice raised due to the howling wind.

"Indeed it is. What I wonder is if you had known that it would be this desperate." Duran asked. A rather reasonable question. One which Oswald answered.

"Well, my king, to answer that, you must understand that Hell is hot, almost as hot as the Sun. And we've been told that since birth. But now? _Hell has frozen over_." The words spoken were very simple, yet carried weight. One would not joke about Hell and get away with it easily in the presence of others. Considering what Duran and his men had seen thus far, he dared not challenge that saying. If this was true, then the claims of a cataclysmic Storm held some truth behind them. A grim thought, unfit for a king such as himself at present. Finally, they could see the outline of the massive hole in the ground where one of the towns was supposedly located. Honestly, a small part of him expected to see huts barely standing up, and less than one hundred men, women and children combined, if only to at least disprove the thoughts that his mind held. But that was to no avail. Smoke rose from the hole triumphantly, and as soon as they got close enough, he was left shocked.

It was a sprawling city, with smoke coming out from almost everywhere, the houses of wood and metal standing resolute, strong and steadfast against the winds that struck him and his bodyguards. The large tower of black metal produced the bulk of the smoke, and the only beings as tall as the tower were six metal beasts, identical to the one he had seen at Alnus Hill, which was left behind at the Gate. Most of all, he could see large bloated beasts of leather rise high into the sky, one by one. They were speechless. They commanded such beasts with ease, and yet they never even once considered taking Alnus Hill by force. It was as if they didn't care, tried to rationalize Duran. And those three legions... by the God Emroy, it would've been a bloodbath.

They approached a natural decline in the ground, large enough for something big to pass through and into the city, before going past it. It was even bigger from inside the hole. The city itself was a far cry from most cities on Falmart, at least when it came to decorations. But in terms of overall architecture, the size of each individual home, and smart use of limited space, Falmart truly was beaten.

As the group of ten dismounted the sleds at the edge of the city, where a decently sized metal pedestal stood, a rope going high into the sky, the guests of honour simply followed their academic guides. It seemed that the whole community was alive, always doing something, in constant motion. They passed through archways of thin steel, similar to the large tower in appearance, and functionality, yet noticabely smaller. King Duran, however, did notice the odd looks the otherworlders were giving him and his men. It was their first time seeing someone from Falmart.

Only but three minutes of walking to the tower away, one of their guides stopped, and turned around.

"My king, you must excuse us, but we need to talk with our colleagues. Neville will show you around, if you would like." Stated Oswald, before getting a nod from Neville. The rest of the group excused themselves, and walked away.

"Since we're here, I suggest we eat at one of the Cookhouses." Neville suggested, with all agreeing, the group could hear, and see, a man shout at the top of his lungs. He wore a dark blue coat that stretched to his legs, and had a bushy moustache, yet not bushy enough at the same time. Sir Neville seemed to have recognized the man, and as the two got closer, they embraced themselves into a hug of friendship, both laughing.

"Harris, my good friend! I hope you like New Manchester. Ain't how you remember it, eh?"

"Bloody hell, Neville, it's better than I could've imagined! We'll forever be in your debt, and you know it. You practically saved us."

"It's what anyone would've done. Anyway, Harris, as crazy as this might sound, I'd like to introduce you to some... peculiar, guests." Neville said, with Harris raising an eyebrow in confusion. Soon after, however, he got the message. The first person was pretty normal, all things considered, whilst the second one with the eyepatch looked like some sort of noble. "Mind you, none of them speak English."

With all being said, Neville started introducing them. Explaining that a handshake was a customary sign in Earth's culture was easy, as the group of five warriors understood what they needed to do. As it slowly got darker and darker, with the Sun setting down, many lights in the city flickered to life at a moment's notice. The aging king kept his composure, but to say he wasn't curious about the lights was an understatement. They produced no flame which he could see, no flame he could feel, and no flame that could burn him.

* * *

**EARTH: NEW MANCHESTER, 7:08 PM**

**OSWALD P.O.V**

Oswald got mixed feelings at first. Everyone was in disbelief at the latest discovery, and what Oswald had claimed sounded preposterous, and spat in the face of science. Educated men should be pursuing facts was their philosophy. Their opinions changed radically, when Oswald showed them a picture: the one time George's obsession for photography made things easier.

"Is that... a dragon in the background? And those trees... those only grow in moderate climates." The Captain, Robert, and the Captain of New Manchester, Lewis, were in shock. Lewis still tried to wrap his head around these news, but Robert already knew what this meant. It meant that not only could their mission be carried out without worrying about the Great Winter... New Manchester could safely be evacuated and moved. Civilization could be rebuilt. Entire Dreadnoughts restored. Steam Cores made. But most importantly: **Earth would have a secure future**. He looked at Oswald dead in the eyes, and asked his final question.

"All we have to do is get on the good side of this... king Duran, to settle beyond the Gate, correct?" And to his satisfaction, Oswald nodded, but did add something.

"He and his allies will tolerate us. Their 'Empire' won't. I will try and get him to delay the Empire for as long as possible, but there are zero guarantees-"

"This is the best chance we will get, Oswald. This is the best chance humanity will ever have of surviving this calamity. We **need** to cross through." Robert urged, those around him finally catching on to the weight of this discovery. Slowly, yet surely, they raised their voices to support Robert.

"If they won't allow us to settle, we'll settle by force!"

"I am not having my only child live in a land where a single Storm can kill him!"

"To hell with those beyond the Gate if they deny us the Hill! We'll cut through a thousand of them if we must!"

"Calm yourselves!" Shouted Lewis, finally managing to calm everyone down. He was a broad shouldered man, with some experience in leading, thanks in part due to him being a former factory Foreman, with his father being a commander of a squad in the Army somewhere in Australia. He was reported dead the moment the Storm hit from the south. "There are joyous news indeed, but it is hasty to talk of evacuating New Manchester at this time. We need to first tell the people, then make a detailed plan of action, for both possibilities: either we enter peacefully, or by force."

"I bet my last remaining twenty pounds that James still has those experimental Automaton blueprints that the Army commissioned. The bastard Martin Ward wanted to use 'em in India. God smite us all if he survived." Muttered out one of the engineers that came with Robert. Oswald sighed, and stepped up a little.

"Lewis has a point. It's too early to say anything. I will first need to talk to king Duran about our safe passage. If he accepts, then I need to ask of him a big favour, and that is to delay the Empire as much as possible, so that we're at least settled before they come. There's also the three lost legions roaming around somewhere. Considering we didn't find them anywhere, it's a safe bet to say that they went through the South Pass. If we can get their support, we might just be able to stay afloat longer until we ourselves get a garrison force going."

"Then it's settled." Lewis said, with Robert deciding to continue. "We tell the people tomorrow that we have found this Gate, and have a talk with king Duran right after. Go find Neville, Oswald. Rest up, and meet us at, say , half past five in the morning."

* * *

**EARTH: NEW MANCHESTER, 6:00 AM**

**KING DURAN P.O.V**

It was six in the morning. Everyone was gathered as near to the black tower as they could. Hell, he could barely count how many people there were. At least over four thousand. From what he had been told, the ships which carried them could not have transported so many people, let alone manage return trips to compensate due to the time constraints. So how this whole city gained such a population was a mystery, even to the otherworlders. He was behind the small wooden platform which was erected on short notice, standing resolute, yet on the sidelines. He understood no word that the otherworlders spoke, and as such, both parties decided it was best for him to simply stay silent. As the gathered crowd silenced, three figures were now on the platform, each holding some sort of tool which amplified their voices, without the use of magic.

"Attention, citizens! I am terribly sorry to have gathered you all on such a short notice, especially today, when I had promised you all a day free of work, but this must be addressed. You all know how we were saved at the last moment by our friends, the brave professors of Oxford and Cambridge from before the Great Winter. Now, they return to not only help us rebuild that which was, quite sadly, but quite thankfully, lost in small quantity, they return with news most wonderful! Sir Oswald, the stage is yours."

The man said, taking a few steps back as to allow Oswald, his group's guide, to speak.

"I thank you, Captain. In all my years as professor at Cambridge University, and member of the Royal Society before the Great Winter, I have seen it all. From wonderful projects which blossomed into what we use to this day, to ludicrous ones which were discarded by time. But never have I seen something like what I, and some of my colleagues, have seen two days ago. Near the city in which we live, we found a most curious structure, almost as if it was embedded into the icy glacier itself. We found a survivor, desperate for warmth, and searching for his friends. We took him in, fed him, healed him of illnesses, and welcomed him. And he brought us back to the structure we found him near. He said that wonders awaited us beyond, and out of curiosity, listened. For the first time since the Great Winter began, we were left stunned, as our thermometers went above 0C. Eventually, we were on the other side. It was just like Earth should've been at this day and age, except much cleaner, much greener, and much, much richer!" The words he spoke caused the people to grow interested. It sounded preposterous, but they had helped New Manchester before, and for what reason would they lie? So, he continued, uninterrupted.

"As of now, we are currently negotiating with the locals on settlement rights, but I can assure you, all of you will have a roof over your heads there, with no worry for the cold, and no threat of extinction. I am happy to say... we have outlasted the Great Winter!" A massive wave of cheers erupted throughout the entire city, so much so that King Duran could hear every one of the otherworlders cheer out of pure joy. But as the cheers continued, a loud sound soon rang out, originating from the tower behind. Duran and his men tensed up, and went for their swords, but were stopped by Exploratores Quintus.

"My king, that was the tower. It had just signalled the people to quiet down." Furrowing his eyebrows, Duran doubted the man's explanation, but accepted it for now. With him seathing his half drawn-out sword, the bodyguards followed suit. The third man, the friend of Oswald, spoke up.

"It may take a few days for us to finish negotiations, and even longer to move everyone from New Manchester to this brave, new land. But we can assure you that we will get there. Which is why I bring this up now. There are over thirty thousand people from the new land lost in the icy wastes of the Arctic, and they have been lost for four days now. Returning them to their homes would go a long way in helping us achieve what we want. We need volunteers to go search for them, where ever possible. Each Scout Team will have one of us as interpreters, for they do not speak our language. That would be all."

And as the man finished, many sprang into action. Duran had been getting a rough translation of what was being said by another of the academics, and as such, couldn't but simply stare. They seeked a diplomatic solution to their settlement conundrum, yet, very subtly, the man known as Robert told everyone that they were more than ready to take land by force. And judging from the sound of cheers which still rang in his head, that sentiment was shared by many. They alone probably wouldn't be enough to defeat the Allied Kingdoms, but if they somehow recruited those lost legions... they stood a fighting chance. Duran wasn't afraid of battle, far from it. He was worried of what their iron beasts could do to his men. Negotiations were going to be rough, he was sure of it...

* * *

**FALMART: ALNUS HILL, 8:14 AM**

**PRINCESS PINA CO LADA P.O.V**

"What!?"

"I am sorry, my lady, but King Duran has went through the Gate to make contact with the otherworlders in helping find the lost legions." One of the officers from the Elbe Kingdom to the third princess of the Saderan Empire.

Princess Pina was sent, by her father, Molt Sol Augustus, emperor of the Saderan Empire, to see what was happening near the Gate, as there was no report from any messenger on the status of the supposedly lost legions. The bulk of her order of knights was still days away, but she came with an advance party to Alnus Hill post haste.

"The king has no reason to cross the Gate! He could have forced those savages to search for them without needing to cross through." The princess argued.

"I understand, my lady. The other leaders of the Allied Kingdoms share your sentiment. But he has expressed his wish to verify outlandish claims the otherworlders put forward himself. Besides, my lady, they had a great beast of iron by their side... and an Exploratores, who trusted them." The officer tried reasoning with the princess, but it fell on deaf ears.

"Fool... the only one with beasts of iron is the god Duncan. And so what if an Exploratores was-" Pina attempted to retort, but she was grabbed by her shoulder. One of her knights, and mentor since early days, Grey, looked at her.

"I can see he tells the truth, princess. I may not understand the king's decision, but it was his. I would have supported you had every other leader of the Allied Kingdoms crossed through." Grey said, calming Pina down. But her aide, Hamilton, another knight of the Rose Order, spoke up.

"Then why have you stopped sending peoole through? We need to find those legions." And in response, the officer only shook his head.

"The men are too scared, my lady. The otherworlders left one of the iron beasts directly on the other side. It would be suicide to march through, even with an army. I heard one of the otherworlders say that their beasts can rip apart a man's arm or leg just by stepping on them with their thin, metallic legs."

It was precisely that which Pina couldn't understand. No beast but the Ancient Fire Dragon was unbeatable, so why the worry? The description she had gotten out of the officer was nonsensical, at best. Over fifteen meters in height, if his estimation was correct, with a giant, bulky body. It possessed no visible eyes, yet still knew where to go and when to turn. It was simply too big, and could just barely pass through the Gate. Men claimed it was real but the beast was nowhere to be seen, other than on the other side of the Gate. Exploring the other side without the rest of her knights was out of the question, but that never meant that a scout couldn't be sent. She just needed a willing one. If the Allied Kingdoms wouldn't send one, she would. Being as near to the Gate as they were, Grey, Hamilton and Pina started hearing... something. The trio collectively turned towards the Gate, each of them visibly tense. The sound only got louder and closer, reminiscent of something heavy clicking off the ground. They saw a light approaching them, which prompted the elder knight and the two female knights to fully unseathe their swords, now in a combat stance. They only dropped out of it upon seeing what was crossing the Gate. It was a large monster, over fifteen meters tall, a flame burning at its core, with smoke rising from its top. The four legs triumphantly stomped the ground, yet did so with some level of care.

"Is that...?" Hamilton asked, her voice suddenly feeling shaky.

"The beast of iron..." Grey silently said, eyeing the large creature carefully. It looked faithful to the description the troops had given them. So if it was this dangerous... why did it ignore them? The soldiers were feeling on edge, some even considered running if it came after them, but it never did. It slowly but surely walked into the distance, like it was... exploring. The possibility of the otherworlders using these creatures to scout the lands of the Empire crossed Pina's mind, and for but a moment, she seized a tiny window of opportunity.

"Bring it down to the ground! We cannot allow it to reach a settlement!" The princess yelled out, the frightened men choosing to obey, for whatever reason their minds tried to come up with. They ran at the beast and attempted to cut its legs: no use, the swords struck true, but kept doing nothing. They tried holding down one of its legs: alas, it did not work. Worse yet, one of the soldiers had gotten his entire right leg removed by the left hind leg of the beast, the man screaming out of pain, rushed back to camp by his comrades.

So they tried with their Wyvern Riders to tie the legs with a rope: and surprisingly, it had worked. The beast stopped dead in its tracks. At least until it moved its legs unnaturally. They moved forward, bringing the beast down, but the legs bended forward as well, in its own twisted idea of 'forward'. The rope, under such stress, gave up and snapped, prompting the creature to get back to its normal height, and continue the trek. The leaders of the Allied Kingdoms soon got word of what Pina had attempted to do, and swiftly took control back from her. They had explicit orders from the Grand Marshall who was elected by them, who turned out to be King Duran himself, to not bring harm to the beasts should they ever be seen in the lands. Pina attempted to argue, with Hamilton at her side, but it was worthless, and Grey saw it. They would talk later on the matter.

* * *

**FALMART: ALNUS HILL, 8:18 AM**

**THE DAUNTLESS PIONEER**

* * *

_If. Legs. Obstructed =1_

_Clear. Obstruction_

_If. Obstruction. Cleared = 1_

_Continue. Exploration_

_Difference. Engine. Calculation. Complete_

_Calculation. Error = 0_

_If. Calculation. Error = 0_

_Restore. Coal. Reserve = True_

_Recall. For. Resupply. Interval. Set. 1530_

_Accident. Injury. Subject. Human = True_

_Reduce. Walk. Speed = False_

_Calculate. Road. Pathfinding. Until. Resupply. Interval = 1_


	3. Divine Negotiating

**Heave lads! Ho lads! Forget the comforts of books, you're in a fic now! Hello again, everyone, Larry here- _With me. Where are me pipes o' smoke? Where's me tobacco, you bas-_ Thank you, Timothy, for dropping in. I am sure no one forgot about you. Holy hell this got so much attention practically overnight again! It's amazing, but not my main driving force for continuing. I simply give you a different take on many of the Gate x [INSERT UNIVERSE HERE] stories, some of which I highly recommend you take a look at! Without further ado, onto the reviews!**

**Wombag1786 - Sadly, that already happened to me, so I understand your concerns all too well. As for the comment on Sadera, I think Zorzal should get punched in the face. Alongside basically 90% of the Saderan Senate. God forbid Zorzal attempts to bring down an Automaton, that'd be inviting the dear old professors to take action. Pina, well, she tried and failed, so no lasting damage was done. _Yet_.**

**Guest - IS THAT A MOTHERFUCKING JOJO REFERE- yes, I have actually listened to their Frostpunk raps! And trust me, the Imperial Civil War will have Order and Faith clashing for the future of the Saderan Empire, with Zorzal doing his own thing and New Manchester just trying to keep things from escalating. As for the Gods, screw them. Once someone from Falmart learns how to operate the Difference Engine, it's basically game over. So the Gods have until then to stop the spread of technology. Will they succeed? Who knows!**** Not even I do! **

**MadHat886 - Why thank you.**

* * *

**EARTH: NEW MANCHESTER, 8:15 AM**

**QUINTUS P.O.V**

It had been a strange morning, indeed. For starters, George had originally intended on giving Quintus and King Duran a more proper tour of the city, had it not been for the city bursting into action. Quintus understood that, when given hope, people would give it their all to achieve something, but this crossed every line. Sacrificing an entire day of what was perhaps a day of prayer, just to work. Organizing work actions in numerous 'shifts' as George had described. Enlisting special men to oversee work to make it safer and more efficient. Hell, even the children, who had been helping the academics, were now working side-by-side with adults, of their own volition no less.

It almost frightened him how efficient every citizen was, every commoner, every hunter, every child and every woman. Saderan determination and resilience was at its peak during the Arctic War two-hundred-and-fifty years ago, yes, but nothing on this level.

"This is the first time I've seen them all this determined. It's amazing what hope can do." George said out loud, perhaps on purpose so that Quintus and Duran could hear him, considering he didn't say it in his native language.

"The only time I have seen such fervor was when the Allied Kingdoms prepared to march on Alnus Hill. And even then..." Duran noted, looking all around him. Duran had no reason not to believe the claims of the otherworlders, now that he had seen their world in full. Yet, despite that, he had once more underestimated the will to survive of these people. Each and every one of them would willingly march onto Alnus Hill, even when outnumbered, if only to gain a tiny piece of land to settle on.

"Well, then. How go the calculations, Marcus?" Asked George, turning around to see Marcus still looking at the Difference Engine.

"Pretty good, so far. Lower marginal errors are non-existant, while I only have to make two adjustments total to the higher marginals. With that said, from the data I have right now, attempting to evacuate everyone at once would be suicide. We can restore a Steam Lorry or two to carry anywhere between fifty to one hundred people every twenty-four hours. That way, we can ensure New Manchester grows appropriately and according to a proper city plan." Marcus stated, continuing to shuffle through some papers and the massive calculator which the two Falmartians observed.

"That's good to know. In that case, we'll have the Automatons leave with the last wave of people, with whatever supplies they can carry. And then... the Seedling Arks." George's voice softened at the end, but Marcus just looked back at another sheet of paper.

"Not possible. Either we move them in the next three days, or we stay here to wait out a blizzard. A drop in temperature will happen, and our Heaters won't work during the trip. If the bloody Imperial Expedition Company bothered to give us proper heaters, we wouldn't be in this situation, but no. They just had to focus on their expedition from Birmingham way too much..."

A silent sigh was released by George. Marcus had a point. But Quintus and the others understood no single word the two men said moments ago. Their language was appealing to the ear, but absolutely impossible to speak for anyone on Falmart. So, the two kept looking out the window. It was all they could do for the time being, given where they were. But that soon changed, as King Duran was needed to continue negotiations. So under escort of George and Oswald, they were back on the streets.

Something which gave interest to Duran and Quintus respectively was some sort of chanting. It originated from one man, and one man only, but one with a powerful voice. His clothes were obscured by a cloak of black and purple, with small shades of gold yellow strewn about. The man had facial hair fit of someone his age, with a moustache and beard that complemented each other well. Surprisingly, he was chanting in their native language, some sort of sermon most certainly.

"Hear me, my brothers and sisters, for He has answered our prayers! The way to Eden has been revealed, by Him, no less! Need not we warm our blisters by the fire anymore! Need not we huddle in the freezing air anymore! For He had provided us divination, as He had provided us an Ark! The temperature's low, but our Purpose is much higher, and for staying ever-vigilant, He rewarded us with Eden! It is only right that, for His gift, we repay Him with our undying Faith in Him. O Lord, we hope you guide us into Eden. O Lord, we pray we will make it. Blessed be, the Holy City of New Manchester, and all the souls which take refuge within. Amen." The man ended, all present repeating every sentence he spoke with a delay. The man had spirit, faith and a purpose. Yet Quintus knew he and his flock worshipped a false God, as all those before him have. The Gods on Falmart were very real, but Gods on this... Earth, were not. Oswald must have noticed that the two were paying attention to the sermon, and thus, chipped in.

"I heard he was a song writer before the Great Winter. One of the best in Manchester. Archibald Locke is his name. Can't say if what he's doing is right, proclaiming himself 'Protector of the Truth' but he has kept the hopes of all in New Manchester high. Only a few take him seriously, however." The man said, continuing to lead the group towards where the captain of New Manchester was. Upon arriving, the two could see him talking with one of the workers of the city, before promptly turning to them. He had a jovial look.

"Well, I am glad to finally see you up close, King Duran. My name is Lewis Watts. A pleasure to meet properly." Lewis offered his hand, and, thankfully knowing what it meant, Duran accepted it. As the two men shook hands, Lewis spoke.

"If you have nothing more to see, then let's talk about our rights to settle. Hopefully make a deal."

* * *

**EARTH: NEW MANCHESTER STREETS, 9:36 AM**

**LEWIS WATTS P.O.V**

Just as expected, negotiations bogged down. King Duran was pleasant to talk with, even if they needed a translator to help them. He was hardly the one bogging down negotiations, oh no. The Saderan Empire was the one holding the leash of the Allied Kingdoms, and any deal made without their consent would be considered treason. However...

"The Empire is currently pre-occupied with a future fight against a tribe of highly aggressive nomads. If you were to find those lost legions, and convince them to join you, your city may stand a fighting chance." Duran declared, as the two slowly walked the streets of New Manchester. Walking and talking... an ancient practice, one which still worked.

"No doubt. But I suspect that the Empire isn't the only reason we're still not coming up with a satisfying deal." Lewis inquired, knowing that there was always more than one obstacle to any deal. Culture shock, tech gap, unorthodox views of Falmartians towards anyone else, slavery and most importantly: twisted pride. It seemed that only a scant few did not succumb to it.

"You are correct. While I am the Grand Marshall of the Allied Kingdoms, they will not necessarily stand by my side on matters of politics. I had barely convinced them all not to attack your... Automatons, if I did not forget the name, despite my orders. You may need to send someone to convince them." Duran said, his face furrowing. Dealing with the other leaders of the Allied Kingdoms, despite being elected Grand Marshall, was never his forte. He was always more for commanding the troops, or leading his own kingdom for which he cared for very much.

"Hm... I may have a solution. I assume they would want something to benefit themselves from us before aiding us, correct?" Lewis asked, getting a nod in return after Edward, a former Cambridge Professor, translated. "In that case, I can only guarantee that I can send Archibald as an impromptu negotiator, given his knowledge of Latin, and, with Robert's approval, one of his men to showcase what they could get by co-operating with us."

"That would be a great stepping stone. Given the nature of the other leaders, and Falmart's current technological level, as Albert, if I remember correctly, said, the academics alone wouldn't be able to sway them. Bring someone with charisma, a strong will, a voice of an angel and a messenger of the divine, and they will listen." Duran concluded, much to the satisfaction of Lewis. Progress was being made, and that was all that mattered. So long as a deal was achieved before the Storm looped back round for the bi-annual pass...

"Then it's settled. I will talk with Robert about sending one of his colleagues alongside Archibald to the other side. And one more thing... I have to thank whatever God of yours opened the Gate. For both our sake, and yours. If the Gate opened anywhere else, I think all of Falmart would have needed to be evacuated before the Storm hit..." Lewis stated, his words ringing true. The three men walked along, now in silence, the only sounds being the ones of the surrounding people, and of the Automatons. The people were still very much in a frenzy, and Lewis couldn't but smile.

"Foreman needed at the Steelworks! The workers need extra motivation!"

"Extra rations for the ill! They refuse to stay in the infirmary and wish to work!"

"Volunteers needed for third shift on the Wall Drill!"

"Help needed at the Workshops! Radicalization of Automaton carrying capacity on the horizon!"

"Steam Core found! Steam Core found! Help needed to carry it back to the Factory!"

"**We did it! We found salvation!**"

* * *

**FALMART: ALLIED KINGDOMS BASE CAMP, 2:07 PM**

**PINA CO LADA P.O.V**

The entire argument was over in less than an hour. While Pina and Hamilton did bring good arguments, attempting to argue with the leaders of the Allied Kingdoms was like trying to convince a wall that it was a bird. Despite being the Third Princess of the Saderan Empire, she apparently did not have the authority to command anyone but her order of knights, unless given permission.

At least she could finally inquire as to why exactly King Duran gave the order not to attack those dangerous beasts, for he had returned. Without the legions, no less, and curiously enough, with two visitors from the other side.

"The Grand Marshall returns." One of the kings said, seeing King Duran enter the tent where everyone was. He looked no different than usual, having changed back into his armour.

"Indeed I have. I see that the princess has also graced us all with her presence." Duran remarked, bowing ever so slightly, to show his respect. "I bring most curious visitors, for I have been discussing a certain topic with the otherworlders."

Holding open the tent flap, the first person to have entered was... strange. He looked like a blacksmith, with leather gloves and clothes made from a fine enough fabric, but the strange pieces of metal and glass on the man's forehead made no sense. The next person was rather easy to recognise. A priest, more than likely, judging by the cloak he wore. Of what God, however, was unknown. Before anyome could speak up, the priest started.

"Hear me, o people of Falmart, and rejoice! For He has given you a gift most gracious! And that gift, brothers and sisters, is enlightenment! God has answered my prayers, and has given you his gift, should you accept it." The priest said with great passion, captivating those around him. The kings grew interested, wanting to know which god offered enlightenment. Pina, on the other hand, remained wary. Her eyes landed on the man next to the priest, who looked unmoved, regal and uninterested in the priest's words.

"And which god offers such gift?" Blurted out Hamilton, prompting the priest to turn around, a smile forming on his face.

"You must be mistaken, sister, for God is only one, and a name he does not need. But the gift, my friends, comes not from me, but from this man here. Brother Edward, you may speak." The priest concluded, and allowed the man, known as Edward, to step up. He cleared his throat before speaking up.

"Thank you, father Archibald. My name is Edward Ford, a former professor of Cambridge University. We have been talking with King Duran about rights to settle here, on Alnus Hill, and have concluded that, if we want to earn that right, we should show our merits. Thus, I present to you... the Automaton. Please follow me outside." The academic spoke, exiting the tent calmly. The ones present came out one by one, if anything, to see what was so important. Considering Sadera's prosperity, hardly anything could match it. Pina, Hamilton and Grey were the last ones to leave, and all three gasped loudly. The beast of iron was there, standing triumphantly in front of the camp.

"As I said, we call it an Automaton. Despite what you may think, the Automaton was never designed for war, and as such, has never participated in battles. The Automaton's primary power source is the Tesla-Babbington Mk. III Steam Core, capable of producing both heat and electricity to keep the Automaton from freezing, and to keep it running." The words this academic spoke were strange, made no sense, and hardly understood. Was this supposed to be common knowledge? Sensing the confusion, Edward continued.

"However, without a brain, a piece of metal is just that. So we had given it the Difference Engine, created by Sir Charles Babbage. Capable of making complex calculations far easier and faster than any one man, it is by far, the greatest invention to have graced mankind. The Automaton's handles located on the belly are capable of carrying hundreds upon hundreds of kilograms of a variety of materials, as well as perform agricultural duties. It can even work in infirmaries, treating the worst of illnesses, from the Common Cold to, god forbid, gangrene and severe frostbite. Automatons can replace entire teams of workers. Automatons need no food, no water, no sleep and work without stopping. The only thing they need is coal. So long as that is available, they will work."

The grandest revelation sent the leaders into a frenzy. Each one bombarded the academic with questions, and each one got his answer. The one to put an end to all that was Pina. "Lies! The enemy tries to trick us! We had seen one sever a man's leg without effort-"

"The nerve! To speak ill of one you know nothing about is sin enough, but calling one an enemy is an even greater sin! God cares not for one's status in this mortal life, for He judges all equally! We are His children, and He will decide our fates! The man had suffered an accident, nothing more, and nothing less." Archibald yelled out, cutting off Pina mid-sentence, which infuriated her. This man, priest or not, needed to learn manners when speaking to royalty.

"I say that you are untrustworthy! You have caused suffering to a man, and dismiss it as an accident! How dare YOU!?" Pina shouted, getting ready to draw out her sword if need be. Edward fruitlessly attempted to diffuse the situation. Archibald was ready to put the princess in her place.

"You speak of suffering, yet know nothing close to it! My people ran from the cold, which ravaged our entire world! Millions died, and millions more starved! This was no threat which could be fought! This was no threat which could be defeated! **The Storm could only be survived****! **God has given us strength, and we persevered. We survived against all odds, staring into the apocalyptic eye of the Storm, which descended from the skies, crashing the heavens themselves unto us! God forbid your world ever sees the Storm, for it only brings death. Not even your gods can stop its rampage. Ne'er a lantern has been lit with oh so righteous a spark, as the day our city survived the deathly cold Storm. Five thousand souls, watched over by the divine. Eden shant be denied to us, for He has shown us the way."

This left everyone present stunned, save for King Duran and Edward. Not even the gods could stop it? Not even the gods could stop it!? The audacity! Pina knew that the gods were supreme beings, and nothing could stop them save for other gods! To say that something so mundane as a mere blizzard could not be stopped by the gods was ridiculous! But... why did Pina start feeling something? It was an unexplainable emotion, caused by the look King Duran had just given her with his one remaining eye. It was a judgemental one, and Grey was the first to notice. _He knew something others did not_.

"I'm sorry... you said a soldier got wounded because of an Automaton?" Edward asked, obviously confused. Due to Pina still attempting to find an appropriate answer to Archibald's argument, and due to her being in a state of semi-shock, Grey was the one to answer.

"Indeed. One of your... 'Automatons', stepped on one of the soldiers and ripped out his leg."

"Christ almighty... a good thing I brought spare prosthetics. I can treat the soldier if I am led to him. You can observe if it makes you feel at ease." Edward declared, gaining a curt, yet cautious nod from Grey, who excused himself from the company of Pina and Hamilton, in favour of escorting Edward to the wounded soldier. All the while, King Duran conversed with the other leaders of the Allied Kingdoms, voices being raised from time to time, yet no argument breaking out just yet. And Archibald simply prayed. He silently muttered prayers in his own native language to the God he worships, about what, Pina didn't know.

* * *

**EARTH: UNDISCOVERED CAVE SYSTEM, 2:11 PM**

**LEGIONS**** P.O.V**

This was horrible. Over nine thousand remaining men were trapped in a cave, in a world they knew nothing about, and with a cold that killed even the disgusting demi-humans and plethora of monsters which added over five thousand to the three legions. Each step the troops made exhausted them to no end, some giving up, others continuing. By now, normal food had ran out, and the troops were forced to eat the monsters they brought with them. Rationing was introduced, with even demi-humans getting some of the rations, thanks to the mercy of **Count Formal of Italica**. Alas, he was ill.

The man had become gravely ill: his leg had been cut off to stop it from infecting the rest of the body, but was disinfected poorly. It was a miracle the Count did not die hours later due to another infection.

"I would kill to fight an Ancient Fire Dragon right about now... at least it would warm us up." Said one of the Saderan soldiers to his comrade. The two sat near each other, attempting to warm themselves up as best they could. The two shivered as their cold breaths attempted to heat up their hands. "Damn this cold..."

"I get you... I heard we will run out of food any day now. We're consuming too much because of exhaustion, and... dear gods. I can get behind eating our beasts, but not ourselves. I even fear for the demi-humans... no one deserves such a grim fate." The other soldier said, a tear forming. "Flare, I pray to you to keep us warm. Please..."

Such was the desperation that forced most to turn to the divine for warmth. The Bunny Warriors were one of the most affected, but also most resilient. Even if none had died, they would start to, soon. One of them held sheets of aged paper in her hand, trying to make sense of the strange words which were written on it. Her shivering was getting worse, perhaps she was even sick from disease. She hoped beyond hope to survive, return to her world, even if back into slavery, just so she could feel warm again. Finally, after having observed the sheets of paper, she finally came to the language she oh so very much knew. But these were the last pages, and those pages disturbed her.

"_It's all hopeless. Fuck London. Fuck the Crown. Fuck the Imperial Expedition Company. Fuck them all. I had to sit idly while I reported to London about developments. I was told not to tell anyone, especially not those poor sods from the Working Class. Dear fucking God, I couldn't even tell my son to start saving up for the ticket. The Lords, the politicians, the Army officers... that's all that mattered to London. The Crown was definitely guaranteed a private Dreadnought which would lead them to a private Generator. Time after time after time I hoped Parliament would come to its senses, for the Royal Society to do **SOMETHING, ANYTHING!** All in vain. The Great Winter came, the fuckers went, and almost everyone on the planet died. I had to count how many Dreadnoughts left port from the British Isles. Do you wanna know, **how fucking many? Only four hundred. TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND PEOPLE SURVIVED! AT BEST! MILLIONS UPON MILLIONS UPON MILLIONS OF PEOPLE LIVED ON EARTH, AND HOW FUCKING MANY SURVIVED!? TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND!** I can't even write in English anymore... I give up. I don't want to live in a world where everyone I cared for is dead... if anyone finds this and is able to read Latin... please bury me. I just want to see my son again._"

Each page contained three or four crude drawings, accompanied by their own deranged comments from the mysterious author. One such page had what appeared to be a flag, with something written underneath: "_**Murderers**_". What were apparently names were crossed out violently, one page even having a slight tear in it in the place of a crossed out name. Various symbols littered the very last page, one of a skull, another of a coat of arms of some kind, and the last one... by the gods, it was graphic. The author, whoever he was, had apparently remained sane enough to depict in detail his supposed suicide, via drawing. The doodle of the author cut himself open violently with a knife, intestines falling out, lung punctured, heart barely beating, the chest cut open and subsequently **torn** open.

The Bunny Warrior could read no more. It was tragic, in a sense. The man was forced to live longer than his son, could not help people, and most importantly: was likely betrayed by his own kingdom. Worse yet, he must have died alone. _Alone in the cold which kills all_.

"Delilah... what is that?" Asked a Bunny Warrior as she slowly approached her friend, Delilah. She was shivering as well, but less so than the others.

"I... I don't know anymore... they look like the last moments of a man who lived in this cave... most of this I can't read, but... the last pages I can. He insults his country because of what happened, and... the text claims there were millions on this entire world. And now...? Only two hundred thousand... _at best_."

"I wouldn't blame him... even a patriotic man would do the same if he lived in this wasteland..." Spoke the gruffy voice of one of the Saderan soldiers who had been sitting nearby, trying his damnest to stay warm, even if inside a cave. Days ago that same soldier was abusing every demi-human that dared even try to speak in his presence, and now? Now he just wanted to go home. In the meantime, Delilah's ears shot up: someone was coming from outside the cave. It didn't sound human, or natural at all. Slowly getting up, Delilah went to investigate what was making such a sound. Apparently the other Bunny Warriors had also picked up on the noise, but not the Saderans, not by a long shot. Exiting the cave, Delilah, her friends, and three Saderans whom were outside on guard duty were stunned. Nearing them was a group of ten people, each on some sort of sleds which moved by themselves. They looked unbothered by the cold, and only sped up after they saw people.

Under normal circumstances, every soldier would've been informed by now of someone unknown approaching, and would appropriately take defensive positions. Except these times were all but normal. Exhaustion, cold, malnutrition... to hell with it all. The men and women who stood at the entrance to the cave simply rescinded their fate to these men. If they were savages, hopefully they'd take them someplace slightly warmer, even if as slaves. If not...

As the first of the sleds came to a halt, one man had gotten off, adjusting what looked like a magic torch on his right shoulder. His face was mostly covered by cloth, the eyes only being visible, and even they were covered with something else. As time slowly passed, more and more men came, until there were ten. And suddenly, one asked a question.

"You're from Falmart, correct?" The lead man asked, shouting due to a sudden gust of wind. The soldier on the ground merely nodded, earning a barely visible shrug from the man. Trudging through the snow, he and his group approached the cave, slowly turning their heads towards the people they passed. The looks stuck the longest on the Bunny Warriors, for whatever reason, good or ill. "Where is your leader? Is he still alive?"

"He is... deeper in the cave... Legatus Pontus will show you..." Answered yet another soldier, his coughing only intensifying by the minute. The man discussed something with his enteurage, before turning to Delilah.

"Do you have any knowledge of medicine?" He asked her. She only meekly nodded, earning a sigh of relief from the man. "Then get these men inside. My friends here can ease their pain. If not... amputation it is." He stated, grimly so. That was the last she had seen of him since then. Delilah wouldn't meet the man again until much, much later...


	4. Survival Troubles

**Good day, fellow citizens! Larry's back with the fanfic. Took a bit longer due to school and stuff, but O am finally back. Off to the reviews**!

**LogicalWriter - Yes, this was in part inspired by GATE Thus The Frozen Wastes Consumed All. However, this had over ten re-writes until I settled with writing the current version, so yeah.**

**Ferno16 - The recoil would make aiming inefficient, and if a Naval Gun was bolted to the Automaton, I will take an educated guess and say that firing it once would destroy the Automaton. As for how they're going to war, well... find out when it comes to that point. Just know that a few people from New Manchester were in Zulu at one point.**

**Mecharic - Yeah, they still have guns. Not a whole lot of ammunition, but that can be fixed in a jiffy!**

**JoJo Guest - You and me, pal. We're both lonely. But yeah, thanks for the praise, I really don't think I deserve it just yet. Also, that's not Timothy's blood relative, that's George! George stole our last natural supply of renewable Toblerones. Authorities are still searching for him as we speak. **

**Lone Rebel - I agree, Frostpunk has such potential, it's sad to see this many crossovers only. But yeah, New Faith is around, but Mew Manchester opted for the New Order (thus the need for Foremen earlier) with only Neighbourhood Watch being signed (no Guards). Archibald is just a rogue element, but hey, he keeps Hope up, so he's welcomed. **

**Daggercloak000 - Patience is a virtue which we've spun to weave our cloaks, friend. I will say this ahain to avoid confusion: my release schedule will be erratic. **

**Darkwolf54326 - Heretic. **

**WarGlory - Well, now you know! And I'm glad you consider this a jewel, I'll add that one to the Archives right away! **

**Wombag1786 - Oh trust me, I am putting every other fanfic on hold to finish this due to it exploding in popularity overnight. And yeah, it sucks that writer's blocks exist. I try not to write forcefully so as to avoid dumb stuff.**

**And let me tell you the story or [REDACTED] the man who punched Zorzal. He was wise and he was strong, and he was extremely pissed. That's it. That's all I say****.**

**Pina is as much an idiot as everyone on Falmart. Some people simply adapt to being hit in the head with knowledge. Or a wrench, whichever gets to them first.**

**And yeah, Count Formal lives, woop woop! **

**Now that that's out of the way, onto the next chapter! TIMOTHY DROP THAT HUNTING RIFLE THIS INSTANT-**

* * *

**EARTH: UNDISCOVERED CAVE SYSTEM, 12:13 PM**

**COUNT FORMAL P.O.V**

Grim times these were, when foe had to ask for help from foe. But, thankfully for the otherworlders, Count Formal was one who saw reason when it was needed. And thankfully for him and his men, the otherworlders listened to their pleas of help. This was why he sat with a representative of the otherworlders, and conversed.

"As I understand it, our language has been practiced roughly a thousand years ago on this world? And has since stopped being a language commoners knew?"

"That would be the gist of it, Count Formal, yes. It had to be replaced eventually." The man said, adjusting himself so that he may feel as comfortable as one could get on a rock.

"I suppose so... but... it is still fascinating that it wasn't only us that spoke this language." Count Formal said, a small smile forming on his face, which was broken by a cough.

"That is true. On another subject, however... I simply don't have neither the men nor the medicine on hand to treat everyone here. At best, we have enough medicine to keep everyone alive for about two days. And if we use that medicine to actively treat people, we can treat only two hundred. At best." The man sighed. It was frustrating, trying to not make the soldiers live in a state of undeath. Damn the fools that forced Count Formal to be sent with the Expeditionary Forces. Separated from his friends, his most fervent of allies, but most importantly... from **Myui**. Gods forbid that something had happened to her in his absence. Gods forbid her reaction if he were to die in this land. He worried, like every father would. _It's what kept him human in the Frostland_.

"Whatever you do, you have already done far more than what was asked of you. But now that we have time, I wish to know what happened to this world? What made it so cold?" Count Formal asked, his coughing fit finally over for the next several hours. The man across him simply made a light chuckle.

"There are a lot of theories about what exactly happened. While we were transporting the Seedling Arks to the Generator Site, we encountered some men who simply refused to leave the observatory they were stationed in. Their leader explained that they had been observing the Sun, and came to the conclusion that the Sun _might_ be dimming. However, he admitted to not having accurate results. The next theory was that two supervolcanoes, Krakatoa and Tambora, finally erupted, sending ash into the atmosphere, blotting out the Sun. That alone couldn't have caused the Great Winter, however..." The man explained, with him explaining things in detail when the need rose, due to Count Formal either not knowing what the words meant, or had insufficient knowledge. Yet... the one with the Sun dimming hit him hardest. Could it have been Flare finally giving up on this world?

"Another theory me and my colleagues have put up for debate was the magnetic poles of the planet taking a rapid shift, thus de-stabilizing the magnetic sphere, disturbing the ash and making it chaotic, erratic, and deadly. Yet none of it still explains the strength of the Storm... our Stereoscopic Lenses saw right through it, to its very heart, but there was too much ash, even for those two events to produce. Perhaps Tesla's theory on the Patagonia Meteor holds some credence, after all..."

While the man was still explaining things to the ever interested, and disturbed Count Formal, Delilah slowly creeped in, clutching the sheets of paper that she had found hours ago. Perhaps the man could shed some light on what the first pages said...? Count Formal must have noticed her, for he called her out by name, to come. Asking her why she had decided to come, Delilah explained the situation. The man, an academic, simply nodded.

"Well, let's see what this unfortunate fellow wrote..."

"_It has been fourteen days since I received the last report from London: the Dreadnoughts, all four hundred of them, left port. Many more ships left port as well, each carrying well over a thousand people. I received a report from the Royal Navy, however, to be aware of a Norwegian ship that went ahead of the Dreadnoughts, trailing the Imperial Exploration Company's expedition to Generator Site One-Oh-Six, where the citizens from London would disembark. I also received a last minute report of having to watch out for two American Dreadnoughts, the **USS Hephaestus** and **USS Prometheus**, and guide them to Generator Site One-One-Two, just south of One-Oh-Six. I still can't believe how the United States cracked our intelligence and figured out what we were doing up north, but it doesn't matter now. All I and the mates have to do is wait for the Americans to pass, and then wait for extraction from the Manchester Dreadnought, inbound to Generator Site Two-One-Eight. This is gonna be a rough month. But, we've got supplies to last us that long. Now the boring part. I'll write again when something noteworthy happens._"

There was a pause, as the academic skimmed through several pages, most of which were damaged, and unreadable. Eventually, he landed on the one that was readable, and continued.

"_As I said last time, the two American Dreadnoughts did pass by, and we corrected them, since they were headed straight for a mountain. I even got to shake hands with Nikola Tesla. But, that was in the past. I just got troubling news... the fucking **Storm** that first appeared in the south finally started climbing up the Arctic. Worse yet, the Manchester Dreadnought still hadn't come, and it's been a month now. Where the hell could they be? I hope they weren't lost, otherwise we'd have to wait an additional month, somehow, to wait for the joint Oxford-Cambridge Dreadnought to arrive, with a grand total of over twenty Automatons they're bringing. Twenty Automatons all in one place... imagine it. I don't know why they would need so many, but if they have them, they must have something important to put them to work on._"

"Oh dear..." The academic mumbled, having finally reached the next page. That was where the scribbles started, and the descent to madness begun. He took a pause each time, to allow Delilah and Count Formal, and anyone else who was within earshot, to process the information.

"_My son... by baby boy... HOW FUCKING DARE THEY!? THEY TOLD ME THEY WOULD GET GUARANTEED SEATS DAYS BEFORE THE DREADNOUGHTS LEFT PORT! APPARENTLY THEY FORCED MY WIFE AND SON TO PAY UP, AND STILL HADN'T GOTTEN ENOUGH FOR ONE FUCKING TICKET! HOW DID I FIND THIS OUT!? THE IDIOTS FROM THE **IEC** WE FOUND ROAMING HOURS AGO TOLD ME SO! Fan-fucking-tastic. I just hope they made it onto the ships, at least. Tickets for those were very cheap, last time I heard._"

"That's where the readable pages end. He must've broken the moment he found out his wife and son were dead on the next page, if the blood on it is anything to go by... dear God, this man suffered. And to think he was expecting us or the men and women of Manchester..." The academic stated, disappointment more so than sadness apparent in his voice. He got up, and groaned from not moving so much during the entire ordeal. "If you would excuse me, I have to bury a man. And see if the men I sent out are returning by chance."

* * *

**FALMART: ALLIED KINGDOMS CAMP, 3:30 PM**

**EDWARD FORD P.O.V**

"And... there. This should do it." Said Edward, getting off the ground, putting his tools away back into his backpack. For the past several hours, Edward, with supervision from one of the knights, Grey, if he remembered correctly, had been disinfecting the wound of a soldier, and carefully attached a prosthetic leg. The two men eyed him with some degree of suspicion, but suspicion quickly turned to awe. As the soldier attempted to get up, with Edward's help, his face spoke of confusion, bewilderment and joy. He could walk again. The man expected to never be able to walk without assistance again, and here he was, walking as if he had never lost a leg in the first place.

"I... I do not know what to say... you truly are blessed by the gods!" The soldier said in excitement, still checking out his prosthetic leg. He moved it like he would his real leg, the joints moving smoothly and cogs locking into place when not moving.

"It's the least I could do. And you should thank British Engineering for that leg. The former British Empire made those in bulk. Hell, they even made arms." Edward explained, doing nothing to persuade the soldier that this was all except divine intervention. Sighing, Edward put his backpack on his shoulders, and made a mental note to tell his colleagues to come at least twice a week to see how the soldier is adjusting to the leg, and if it would need any maintenance.

"Sir Edward. If you could wait a moment." Grey spoke, his figure towering over the soldier as he still looked at his new leg with awe. Edward's interest was piqued, and as such, stopped in his tracks and turned to the warrior. "We have treated you as an enemy, like all other otherworlders before you, yet you still do this. All I ask is to know why."

Edward hid a small smile that formed on his face, and gave his answer. "A lot of people died back on my world. A lot of those deaths couldn't be prevented. I think that the urge to preserve what life remains has been implanted deep inside our minds. I guess it extends to everyone we meet that's in need. Simple human nature when faced with extinction." He answered, leaving Grey and the soldier alone for the time being. Upon exiting the tent, he was met with a most peculiar sight: not one, but two Automatons. One was certainly The Honourable Liverpooler, but the other looked eerily like...

"Bloody hell, we forgot we even had The Dauntless Pioneer still roaming! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Edward shouted out in frustration, obviously not happy. He took his backpack from his shoulders and rummaged through it, finally getting out the big metal transmitter with a miniature accumulator powering it. Modelled after the Difference Engine, it was shaped like a box, with various buttons on it for sending short-burst messages via the antenna which could be retracted when need be. Putting it on the ground and sitting in front of it, Edward began typing on the typographical apparatus present on it.

"Automaton. Dauntless. Pioneer. Movement. Stop = True"

Edward typed out, seeing the desired effect immediately. The Dauntless Pioneer stood motionless, the Gate a solid two minutes away from it. Sighing, Edward typed out another command.

"Automaton. Dauntless. Pioneer. Descend. To. Height. Two = 1"

The Dauntless Pioneer obeyed, starting its descent to the ground. Princess Pina and her aide must have recovered from their shock, and slowly but surely approached Edward from behind. Alas, he was too busy: he needed to perform a maintenance check. Climbing onto the chasis of the Automaton, Edward took out the tools he would need.

"Sir Edward, was it?" Pina asked from behind, watching him climb the Automaton.

"Yes?"

"May I... observe, by chance?" It was a risky thing, but it could show her that Automatons weren't dangerous...

"Alright. Take my hand." He said, and Pina cautiously took it. Edward pulled her up onto the Automaton, the beast of metal as dormant as always. Edward sat on a beam of steel, and began unscrewing a panel. As he removed the panel, he was careful not to be hit by the wave of heat from the Steam Core, something he warned Pina of beforehand.

"So this is the heart of this beast?" The princess asked, in awe of the orange glow of the Steam Core and the power it held.

"I wouldn't call it a beast, but yes. Without the Steam Core, an Automaton cannot function." Edward stated, now letting Pina observe while he worked on taking hold of the Difference Engine's calculation manifest. However, he turned his head around after hearing a faint sound of perhaps a sword, and went wide-eyed. Before he could act, Pina, in her infinite wisdom, thrusted her sword directly into the Steam Core, managing to go through. The area which was struck was a heat control chamber, and now that it was damaged, the Steam Core's heat slowly built up.

"You idiot!" Shouted Edward, his worry skyrocketing tremendously. As Pina got her sword out, Edward had taken that time to throw a wrench aimed for her head, and it struck true. The princess of the Saderan Empire was thrown off balance, and fell from the Automaton, allowing Edward to assess the damage. It was bad.

"Archibald! We have a serious problem!" Edward shouted out, Archibald coming out of the command tent in a hurry, to see what the problem was.

"What sort of problem?" He inquired.

"No time, we have to patch up the Steam Core, now! I'll guide you through the process, just hurry here!" Understanding the severety of the issue at hand, Archibald hurried to The Dauntless Pioneer.

"Alright, first thing's first. The heat fried the receiver, so we can't command it anymore. I need you to get under the Automaton, and unscrew the third panel from the handles." Edward commanded, Archibald listening closely to his every word. Throwing the screwdriver down to Archibald, the two men went to work. The commotion attracted the leaders of the Allied Kingdoms, who saw the two otherworlders frantically perform duties around and on the Automaton, as well as Hamilton helping Pina off the ground.

"You dare!? I am the third princess of the Saderan Empire, yet you still dare attack me!?"

"Oh do shut the fuck up, princess! If you went three centimeters deeper with that rinky dink sword of yours, the heat wave would've killed you on the spot!" Edward yelled back at Pina, shutting her up. "What do you see, Archibald?"

"The heat is slowly melting the inner components. I don't know what it mean-"

"It means we're fucked if the Automaton doesn't burn through its coal supply, now. Get away from the Automaton, I have a contingency for this." Edward said after cutting off Archibald, the man doing as was instructed. _Rule number one of Automaton Quality Control: if it can't burn through its coal supply quickly, consider the Automaton a failure. Rule number two of Automaton Quality Control: always have a way to bootleg rule number one._

Edward moved to where the Difference Engine was, attempting to locate a special panel which he needed to open. Upon taking notice of it at last, the engineer, using his trusty wrench, smacked open the panel, to reveal several different levers, each one meant for manual control of the Automaton. One stood out, and it was the one with a red handle, with a sign slightly above it.

_Automaton Coal Combustion Accelerator: USE IN EMERGENCY OR QUALITY CONTROL_

Good enough of an emergency, Edward thought, as he pulled it with all his might. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then, very quickly, black pumes of industrial smoke and uncontrolable fire rose out from the Automaton's Ventilation System, which looked similar to a chimney. For a short few seconds, everyone standing there was in awe: the leaders of the Allied Kingdoms for simply witnessing this spectacle, and Pina out of fear. Fear of perhaps seeing the beast rise back up after such a mortal wound, to end her life. But it never happened, and soon enough, the fire subsided. The Automaton was silent once more.

"Well... crisis averted." Edward sighed in relief, wiping a bit of sweat which formed on his forehead. The Automaton was going to have to be towed back to the Factory, but at least it would work again. As for the Steam Core, it would need to be properly inspected, but if his assessment was correct, it wouldn't need to be replaced. They couldn't afford to lose more. As Edward got off the Automaton, he made a beeline straight for Pina. And Pina, although ready for a fight, felt somewhat... intimidated, of the man. It was the wrong word, but out of the one-million-ten-thousand-three-hundred words in the English language, none could describe what she felt. It wasn't intense, that much was known.

"Your little stunt almost killed you, princess. Consider yourself lucky I was able to shut it down." He said, visibly restraining himself from doing something rash, before marching off away from her.

"Archibald, please take care of the two Automatons. I have to alert Robert of a downed Automaton in need of repairs."

* * *

**EARTH: OXBRIDGE GENERATOR SITE, 2:12 PM**

**"LEGACY" TEAM P.O.V**

Not all was as it seemed. Not only did the three legions likely suffer immense casualties from the unrelenting winter, they had also split off into smaller groups, some of only ten, others of hundreds of people. 'Legacy' Scout Team had made a return to the Oxbridge Generator Site, with three guests of honour, no less. The team consisted of four workers from New Manchester, each one with a background in predominantly manual labour, but with some degree of higher education, whilst the fifth member was a professor at Oxford University. On three of the five sleds, three women were situated, each one with bunny ears, bizzarely enough. Questions were asked, with only the academic, Marcus Whittaker, asking questions to himself on how exactly had evolution taken them to develop animalistic traits. The women were passed out, but were slowly waking up, prompting them to hurry up, so as to have them checked by Marcus inside the Infirmary, and then treated by an Automaton if need be. He also wondered how the three hadn't died by the time they were found, seeing as they had little clothes to speak of. Perhaps their more animalistic traits kept them at least partially warm. It was only -30C...

Eventually, they had arrived, and the four workers were awed. A grand total of twelve Automatons were working tirelessly inside of the city. One operating the Factory, four at the Workshops, one at the Infirmary, one at the Wall Drill, two at the Steelworks, one at the Hothouse and two at the Coal Mines. This truly was the very definition of an Autonomous City. As they dismounted the sleds after arriving at the Beacon, Marcus wasted no time.

"Alright, I'll need help carrying these three to the Infirmary. Once you're done, I guess you could head to the Cookhouse. Grab something proper to eat."

The workers nodded, helping Marcus out by hoisting the women onto their shoulders. Marcus noted that, while they were waking up, they were also slipping back into unconsciousness. Nothing a few hours of proper rest and warmth wouldn't help with. As soon as the women were brought into the Infirmary, Marcus instructed the workers to put them into the first free beds, and then let him take over. They did exactly that, and then went to eat: prepare for the next trip to find more people. Marcus simply sighed, and watched as the Automaton's handles, which went into the building through small openings in the roof of the Infirmary which were designed for Automatons specifically, start managing the medical tools. It was programmed with knowledge of where to put what, how to treat illnesses, and treat deep Frostbite. Not that it would be doing any of that, since these women only needed rest.

And as half an hour passed, and Marcus returned from the Cookhouse himself, he was met with a... scene, per se. One of the women had finally woken up, and was currently holding a scalpel, attempting to perform a stand-off with the Automaton's handles, which merely continued to organize medicine into cabinets in alphabetical order. But now, now he had to interrupt her, for she tried attacking one of the handles holding valuable medicine: a vial of iloprost.

"Hey, stop that! That's holding highly valuable medicine!" He shouted, and it worked. It caught her attention. But it had also earned him the priviledge of seeing the scalpel miss him by a mere two centimeters. How in the bloody hell did she turn that fast...?

"Where am I!?" She commanded, Marcus raising his arms in surrender, so as to show he would be complacent. For now.

"Easy now... you're safe, if that's what you want to know. Warm, too. Warmth is a pretty big thing here." Marcus said, trying to get the woman to calm down. She did, but still kept the man in her sight. "What was the last thing you remember? That sounds like a good place to start." He could see the woman sighing. That was a good sign, she was at least partially ready to talk.

"I do not trust you, you are too weak to stop me, but if what you say is true..." She paused, before continuing. "The last I remember was that I was travelling with my sisters and some ignoble soldiers from the Empire towards... somewhere, when we got separated from the main forces. The Saderans were consumed by the snow, and only the three of us remained..." The woman said, finally taking the time to look around. Next to the bed she was in, she could see her two comrades: asleep, and alive.

"You must've fell unconscious shortly after. That's when we found you and brought you back here. If we wanted to kill you, we would've done so already." He said. His words made sense: if the enemy was defenseless, any sane person would attack.

"Then... where are we?" She asked, still weary, yet out of her combat stance. If this was but a ploy to make her lower her guard, then these people never faced a Bunny Warrior.

"Oxbridge Generator Site. On the other side of the Gate."


	5. Better Than London

**A splendid morning/day/evening to you, gentlemen and gentlewomen! I hope your Generator hasn't exploded (yet), since the temperature will drop significantly in the coming days! I have to apologize for the late chapter, as I have a life, and making sure this chapter is consistent and grammatically correct is a long process. I already found some mistakes and inconsistencies I failed to notice, and am doing my best to rectify them for the future. But without further ado, onto the reviews! April Post-Scriptum: I went through a burnout, sorry. I am back, however! Safe from Corona, too!**

**Daggercloak000 - Have patience, friend. And thank you.**

**David111 - Exactly, my dear friend. An Autogun (or as peasants call it, the 'Gatling Gun') can indeed be mounted onto an Automaton and used for the explicit purpose of waging war. Sadly for us, it's wholeheartedly inferior to a Mechanized Lancer! This must be rectified!**

**Wombag1786 - Thank you for your kind words, fellow stranger. And trust me, as I have already told you in PM, this will be a longer story, which I will attempt to make as good as possible. Even if I am reduced to monthly chapter releases.**

**Ferno16 - Pina is gonna be a recurring idiot until she sees the wrath of Oxbridge. And yeah, until she saw the power of the JSDF she thought victory was possible.**

**Mecharic - Hah. Pina thought that the other Automaton was 'asleep' since it wasn't moving at all. So there's that.**

**And you are correct, the Saderan Empire can't invade Frostland, and Frostland can't invade Falmart. HOWEVER, Oxbridge and New Manchester have struck a deal with the Allied Kingdoms to work behind the Empire's back in settling Alnus Hill, thus making an invasion redundant. Of course, this is in exchange for benefits that Oxbridge can give them.**

**Alienfinderx - As a matter of fact, I have read Cold Machines, and hope the author releases a new chapter. As for the Computation Engine, while it is vastly superior, I won't be using it, at least not in that sense. It won't be used primarily because of Oxbridge already having firm control over Automatons, and introducing sentience is a stray variable they can't afford.**

**Also yeah, New London will make an appearance, but not Sanctuary. Sorry :/**

**LATE AUGUST AUTHOR'S NOTE: Rewrite of part of the chapter. Didn't like how the story would turn out, and wanted to immediately change something that'd be important later on. On another note, I am continuing this! Don't worry!**

* * *

**EARTH: UNDISCOVERED CAVE SYSTEM, 7:01 AM**

**TWO DAYS AFTER DISCOVERY**

**ROBERT DUDLEY P.O.V**

The first of the two Steam Lorries that could be restored was en-route to a cave system which previously went unnoticed in the search for Steam Cores. The Steam Lorry pushed through the snow triumphantly, now having been designed for weathers above -80C so that it wouldn't break down unless it was caught in the Storm. As of now, it was carrying medicine from the Oxbridge Generator Site: enough to keep the nine thousand odd troops alive long enough until they were all transported safely to the other side of the Gate. That was only one section of the Steam Lorry, with the other sections dedicated to carrying two thousand units of rations, so as to feed the soldiers who were on the brink of starvation. The last sections of the Steam Lorry held enough wood and steel for roughly fifteen Houses, each one capable of housing ten people. This was because a breakthrough was achieved in negotiations, seeing as how the Saderan Empire's full attention was turned to subjugating highly violent nomads, instead of on the Gate. It was a pain to construct additional holding cabins for the Steam Lorry, but it did the trick. The reasoning for this was, next to transporting construction materials, that they would serve for quick transportation of Steam Cores.

Therein lies the problem. If any Steam Lorry was somehow, however unlikely, intercepted by the Saderans, not only would the Steam Core likely explode, but so too would the entire Steam Lorry. In an age where proper re-creation of technology was still not possible, any asset lost was a crippling blow, and Robert was determined to keep all the assets they had intact.

As the Steam Lorry approached the area, Robert saw a flashing of a light: Morse Code. 'Medicine here' it translated. That was the place. Telling George to change course for the light, Robert did a quick inventory check, so as to verify that everything needed was there. Shortly after confirming that all was present, the Steam Lorry came to a halt, George and Robert getting off, just on time to meet with their colleagues, and the intrigued Saderans.

"Took you long enough to arrive. We're down on our last reserves." An engineer said, eyeing Robert. He merely smirked.

"Come on now, Henry. We're here, and that's the only thing that matters." He stated. "Where's the leader of the Saderans? I want to speak with him." Robert asked, getting an answer from Henry in the form of directions. All the while, George and the workers from New Manchester which came with Henry started unloading crate after crate of medicine and food rations. As Robert moved into the cave system, getting his protective goggles of his eyes, he saw just how bleak the situation was.

These people were grasping at any opportunity to heat themselves, with one group going as far as huddling on top of each other, so as to remain warm. And although he had been alerted, seeing a Bunny Warrior in person was a bizarre experience, almost surreal, to Robert. While he was walking towards Count Formal, Robert had passed by yet another group of people. What separated them from any other group was the fact that each soldier had some form of blanket, or anything along those lines, whilst one of the Demi-Humans, who sat alone, away from the soldiers, had barely any clothes to begin with. This definitely left a bad impression with Robert, who decided to see what was going on.

"You there, soldier." Robert shouted out, to get a soldier's attention whilst approaching them. "Why is that woman almost naked in this cold?"

"Because she is a filthy demi-human, that's why." One of the younger soldiers replied, joined in agreement by the entire group soon after. Robert merely frowned.

"You need every man and woman you can get to survive out here. If you don't, you die. And I'll just remind you who's keeping you alive right now." Robert stated, resorting to intimidation. It was an underhanded tactic, one which he hated, but acknowledged its uses. Some people simply had to be intimidated into compliance. And although the soldiers did shut up, none gave some warm clothes or a blanket of some kind to the Bunny Warrior. Robert sighed.

He walked over to the woman, shivering from the cold, and looked down at her. He heard from Henry that the Bunny Warriors were exceptional soldiers, yet enslaved and used in all manner of ways. The ones here were an exception, to a degree. She stared blankly at him, until Robert started unbuttoning his coat, which made the woman have a puzzled look. Finally, after a while, he took off his coat, kneeling down, offering it to the woman.

"It's cold, even if inside. Take this, it'll keep you warm." He said, the woman slowly taking the coat, wrapping it around herself shortly after. "Better?"

She nodded, her eyes darting away from him to look at those behind him. Robert slowly got up and looked in the direction of the soldiers. They were clearly pissed off. He merely smirked, and started walking away, his hunting rifle hanging on his shoulder. Eventually, with time, Robert arrived in a dead-end tunnel, now serving as a makeshift base camp for the high ranking officers of the Saderans. The Count could be seen talking to one of his subordinates, sadly unable to hear what was said. Colt Formal quickly took notice of him.

"I suppose that you are the leader of these academics?" He asked, now being helped up by one of his officers, Robert noticing that the man's right leg ended a little short: likely a necessary amputation. From what he could gleam, Robert's men bandaged him well.

"That would be me, yes. Robert Dudley. I suppose you are Count Colt Formal." Robert said, introducing himself.

"You would be correct. It is a pleasure to meet the leader of the academics at last." Colt said, giving a small, yet sincere smile to the man. "I hope you bring supplies which we need desperately." He said, hoping fot a positive answer.

"Indeed I do. I have brough enough medicine to keep your men alive, and enough food to feed the starving, and sate some of the hungry." Robert stated, but alas, quickly added. "Tell your men not to eat too fast. Some of them haven't eaten a proper meal in a while, and a sudden intake of nutrients can end up killing them."

"I see..." Colt answered, nodding in agreement. "You truly do bring knowledge worthy of the mages of Rondel with you."

"I wouldn't say that we are as knowledgable as mages in some aspects, but in others I must agree." Robert noted, sighing. Even if inside of the cave, he could feel the cold air creeping up to him from behind, hugging his skin as it passed through his clothes. It only worsened without his coat, yet that woman needed it more than he did. He still had protection from the elements; she was almost naked.

"I hope you have a plan to safely take us back, however. The soldiers are getting mad, and it only worsens." Colt added, finally reaching the topic which Robert wanted to get to. He took in some air, and quickly spoke.

"We have a plan, yes. We will be instituting a system of random selection; each person here will be given two pieces of paper, where they will write a number twice. They are then obligated to put one of the papers of their choosing into a box, and once that is done, I and my colleagues randomly take fifty papers. We do this each day. This is what we call a 'raffle'." Robert explained to the Saderan, Colt merely nodding along slightly. His worried expression, however, didn't forebode a positive response

"Is there really no other way? No way you can bring more than fifty each day?" Colt asked, his voice trembling slightly from the cold. Robert shook his head.

"We have only two transports, and we must evacuate our people, first and foremost. It will take many weeks, mayhaps even months, but... I am confident that all of these men will be brought home safely."

* * *

**EARTH: OXBRIDGE GENERATOR SITE, 6:15 AM**

**MARCUS WHITTAKER P.O.V**

Marcus had managed to get the three women to see some degree of reason. They had been recovering splendidly in the past two days, with Marcus having them perform basic functions, partially out of fear of them losing some basic human functions due to the cold, such as walking. He was relieved to see that the women, or Bunny Warriors as they are called, are healthy and fully mobile.

Now came the part of introducing them to the world outside the Infirmary. He steeled himself for the barrage of questions the women would give him, and shortly after, made his way to the Infirmary. He could see that they were ready, as they put on the clothes they were provided, the only skin that lay exposed to the winter being that which was on the head.

"I hope you are ready for the trip outside. A small warning however; be observant." Marcus stated, holding the doors of the Infirmary open, so that the women could exit first. One by one, Marcus could see them stop in their tracks, turning round each other slowly. As he too came outside, closing the doors of the Infirmary, he caught a glimpse of one of them going wide-eyed, and with reason. The slow thumping of a nearby Automaton as it refueled at a Steam Hub, placed in the vicinity of one of the Seedling Arks, collosal buildings, almost as tall as the Generator, which housed countless specimens of Earth's flora. So diverse and so beautiful, that no less than _four_ were needed to save everything from the Great Winter.

"What... is all this?" One of the women asked, her eyes glancing at everything around the three of them. The woman felt a hand drop onto her shoulder, her eyes landing on Marcus, their saviour.

"This, my ladies, is one of the last cities on Earth. Welcome to the Arctic." Marcus stated, answering the first question; only one of many that would inevitabely come. "If you would follow me. I have to finish work on something, and I figured you'd want to see more."

The women nodded, silently following Marcus as he walked along the roads of the city. Each stared at the monumental structure before them, its large metallic parts shifting and in constant motion, steam exiting the pipeworks, smoke coming from the top as the belly of the beast is filled with coal by one of the four-legged Automatons. As the four walked along the road, they eventually came face to face with a building of almost equal size, utilitarian in design, yet still vastly more pleasant to look at than what most cities offered on Falmart, if only for its simplistic beauty. Marcus entered through a small door, the Bunny Warriors following, and quickly gasping a little. Lo and behold, an Automaton in the works, held high by metal support beams and kept in place by holding clasps, a platform high above the four extending to the chasis of the Automaton, for ease of access.

"What... is this, ser Marcus?" One of the women asked, Marcus stopping for a little, refusing to face them, instead facing the Automaton.

"An Automaton. One of the greatest technological achievements of the British Empire, pioneer in Automaton technology." Marcus answered, turning back to where he was headed, now starting his ascent up a pair of stairs which led to the higher platforms, the women following closely behind.

"This was man-made? No God had gifted this?" Another woman asked, confused a little. Marcus could only chuckle.

"Indeed, my friend. Everything that you see here was made with our own two hands." Marcus explained, the guests intrigued and a little surprised. They thought that no amount of progress was possible without some sort of divine intervention, yet their saviour claimed otherwise. Eventually, the four got to the highest platform, only Marcus moving onto the Automaton itself, muttering something to himself in English, before he began unscrewing a panel; the same one Edward apparently hit rather hard with a wrench.

"You might want to stand back a little. It's going to get quite hot in a few moments." Marcus exclaimed, now done unscrewing the panel. He looked for a faint moment for the switch used in Quality Control, both on Automatons and Mechanized Lancers. He never did understand what the difference was; one was made with handles used for construction and labour, whilst the other was made bulkier so that it could support the automated loading mechanism, whatever weapon it was outfitted with, and, of course, the experimental **Richard-Goldberg Computational Engine**. Would have been far easier to outfit a normal Automaton with an Autogun and call it a day. Alas, such thoughts weren't for the present.

Finding the switch, Marcus quickly pulled it, the Automaton inert. Until the pillar of fire rose from its ventilation exhaust, not nearly as great and large as it was on Falmart, yet more than enough to captivate the guests with awe. Shortly thereafter, it died down.

* * *

**FALMART: ALNUS HILL, 10:28 AM**

**KING DURAN P.O.V**

Another quiet afternoon, in spite of the priest Archibald speaking to some of the soldiers. He and Duke Ligu conversed on the topic of the otherworlders, intrigued in what they had to offer.

"What do you think the otherworlders will give us, Duran?" Duke Ligu asked, the two men slowly approaching the Gate, as part of their morning routine, which had started thanks to the revelation of a peaceful people on the other side.

"I suspect they will give us just enough to keep us content. They would certainly not give us their beasts of iron." He commented, Ligu nodding in response.

"I must agree." Ligu continued. "They can give us far more than the Empire, yet we should be wary. If they find out, there is no stopping them from taking it for themselves." He stated. A harsh truth, yet one which both men had realized early on. They couldn't get too greedy, but neither could they be too closed off to such gifts. A precarious balance had to be maintained.

The two could see... smoke, as they continued their conversation. It came from the Gate, no less. Rushing toward it, as soon as the Gate came into proper view, both of them froze.

"**Final destination: our new home!**" The voice echoed in the strange language of the otherworlders, a carriage with no horses grinding to a halt, its majestic metal frame reflecting the rays of the sun splendidly. The smoke they saw earlier billowed from the metal chimney on the enclosed carriage, a line of other towed carriages stretching out at the back, close to where the Gate began on Alnus Hill. Its size was too large for a normal carriage, yet this was no normal carriage. It was as if it was bestowed upon these otherworlders by a God most benevolent, perhaps even the one Archibald was speaking about. They had naught time to think of such themes, for soon, people started disembarking the carriage at the front.

Those people resembeled that of the academics which came before them, bewildered by the beauty of Falmart, and in awe at something so simple as grass and the Sun. Then again, warmth was a luxury for those otherworlders, and no matter how well he knew them, Duran would never understand the full scope of what they had to endure. Perhaps, he thought, that was for the best.

The two felt like silent observers, watching as families celebrated their safe arrival, looking around them, taking in the scenery with great awe. All of those that disembarked started taking off the heavy clothes they had on them, for they would not be needed anymore by their owners. However, what caught Duran's attention was the unmistakable form of one of the academics, the clothing distinguishing him from the gathering crowd.

"King Duran!" The man called out, approaching the two with a quickened pace, taking off the metallic eyes he had off his actual eyes. "Forgive me if I am interrupting, but I have a message from my Captain."

Duran looked at Ligu for a moment in stunned silence, before turning back to the academic. "You do not interrupt anything. What does he wish to convey?"

The man straightened himself, prior to speaking up. "Captain Robert has made contact with the remnants of the lost legions. A second Steam Lorry, this metal transport, will be transporting the survivors back here." He stated. Ligu and Duran nodded in response. That was good, the legions were not dead as they had feared. However, if some decided to return to Sadera, the otherworlders would be found out. And the Empire would make moves to subjugate them. The next thing that caught the King's attention was the people behind the academic beginning to unload many large crates with the utmost care.

"If I may be bold to ask, but what is in those crates that requires such delicate care?" Ligu asked, pointing to the men behind the academic, to which the man before them chuckled lightly.

"That." He exclaimed. "Those are crates carrying every single seed and seedling of our world which we had managed to save from the Great Winter." He answered, the realization slowly sinking into the conscious of the two royals. "I remember when we got the last seed on the world to safety. All of them sent on a ship to our city, ahead of us. We still needed to prepare for their safekeeping." He mentioned. "Now if I may be excused, I must co-ordinate where to build the foundations of New Manchester." The academic explained, those being his last parting words. The last seeds... that gave the otherworlders even more justification for their re-settlement in Duran's mind.

* * *

**EARTH: OUTPOST 11, 1:59 PM**

**ARTHUR HUGHES P.O.V**

It had been days since they arrived at the site of the Army Warehouse and began excavating it for resources and any valuables. Though conditions weren't ideal, they were more than enough to ensure a healthy life, so long as the city continued to support and provide. A square deal, some said. Though... the fact it was a deal felt wrong to him. Were they not as important as the administration said they were? Despite giving up the mantle of Captain after the Great Storm passed, he was confident the new Captain and his entourage would keep the well-being of the city's inhabitants - inside the city and abroad - in mind. Though, he could attribute his concerns to the fact he was still stuck in the mentality of a Captain of the last city on Earth. And now of the Outpost.

"Captain." One of the workers called out to him, coming from the direction of the Warehouse. The Captain turned around to face him, as did one of his closest friends, Martin Ward. Ward was one of the most hard-working men he'd ever seen, in spite of his age. Likely due to the fact he was in the Army, though when asked about the Warehouse and its origins, he admitted to knowing next to nothing.

"Yes? Is something wrong?" Arthur asked, looking in the direction of the Warehouse.

"It's not about problems sir, but we did find something odd. You should take a look." The man said, Martin and Arthur beginning to follow him to where the discovery was, close in step. As they made it to the interior of the Warehouse, the plethora of lamps lighting the branching pathways that lead deeper into the carved out mountain, the three of them stopped before a small crowd of workers, each one discussing what they found.

"I think it's an Automaton, it has to be! Look at the pieces of metal, those are clearly legs!"

"I for one believe it's part of something else. Do you see the shape of the 'legs'? They're too thick to be of an Automaton."

"By God..." Martin suddenly spoke up, having seen what it was far better. What he saw were indeed legs of what appeared to be an Automaton, but as said by one of the workers, they were too thick and too big to be of a normal one. The chassis was also abnormally large, or, at least, what was visible and not obscured by rubble and the veil of darkness. And if his sight didn't betray him, he saw two of the fabled Steam Cores jutting out from what he could see of the main body. "This isn't just any Automaton. It's a bloody Mechanized Lancer!"


End file.
